The Magic of Winter Veil
by lostsoul512
Summary: Aethas Sunreaver is celebrating his first Winter Veil back in Silvermoon since the Purge. But he isnt feeling all that festive, and Rommath isnt all that great at comforting people. ((Aethas/Rommath, Lor'themar/Liadrin. Featuring Halduron and Salandria. Happy Holidays, all! xx))


**A/N: Happy Holidays to all of my lovely followers. I hope you all have a lovely time doing whatever it is you do to get festive. Or not festive. Whatever makes you happy! I may be a Paladin, but this is a judgment free zone.**

 **Anywaaaaay, this is my present to all of you. In particular, Blame the Priest (I love you, bbygirl! )who has suffered through my process of writing this and roleplaying this and just piecing it into what it is now, which is much longer than I expected it to be. Personally, I think I got a bit carried away….Okay, that's a mild understatement. I lost all control of the characters and they decided to run around doing whatever they damn well pleased. Still, I hope it doesn't disappoint.**

 **Ps~ A few of the headcanons that are touched on in this story come from the massive amounts of roleplaying Blame the Priest and I have done around this particular group. I tried to be as clear as I could in making sure they were thoroughly explained, so I hope there isn't any lingering confusion.**

 **-Skye xx**

 **...**

"I miss the snow."

The words were spoken idly, absently, drifting across the Grand Magister's office from where Aethas Sunreaver had been standing by the window for the greater part of the afternoon, staring out at the city before them like perhaps if he just watched long enough, he could change the weather all by himself. The words were spoken nonchalantly enough, and if it was anyone else in all of Azeroth, Rommath would have ignored them, but in his unpleasant time spent in Aethas' company, he had learned that the young mage never said anything without demanding a reply, and sure enough when he looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, he found the redhead watching him expectantly.

As soon as they made eye contact, Aethas' expression lit up, like he couldn't believe Rommath was actually deigning to acknowledge him. "Don't you miss the snow?" He asked quickly.

Six months. Six agonizingly long, painful months spent in the constant company of the Archmage. Six months of listening to him sulk and mope and whine and every possible synonym there was. Six months of endless questions, always prodding and interrogating like he genuinely wanted to know all of these trivial things about the older elf, like they mattered to him in some way that Rommath failed to see. Six months of listening to him rant _on and on and on_ about his precious Dalaran, and about his innocence, and about his regret. If Rommath hadn't believed him to be innocent already- foolish, certainly, and irresponsible at best, but innocent nonetheless- he would have agreed to it just so that he might manage to shut the younger elf up long enough for him to concentrate on even _one_ of the reports that had fallen yet _another_ day behind.

Six months, and the Grand Magister had gotten fairly decent at shutting Aethas down before he was able to start on one of his tangents. Now, Rommath barely even blinked, his own features remaining arranged in their perpetual scowl. "No."

"Couldn't we make it snow here in Quel'thalas? Even for a day?"

"No."

He had thought that perhaps Aethas would just leave it at all. That he would just return to his useless staring and looking forlorn. Maybe if he would just stay quiet, Rommath might be able to get through at least one of these papers. But of course, nothing ever went the way that he hoped it would, and so of course a moment later the redhead had slid down from the windowsill- _thank the Light,_ Rommath thought at that. _I've been dying to tell him that there are actual_ chairs _for him to sit on_ \- and instead began pacing in front of it. "Why don't you miss it?"

Six months later, and every so often the young Archmage still managed to find a soft spot within the hardened shell of the Grand Magister, and when he did, he insisted on prodding for as long as he could manage to get away with it. Rommath wasn't sure exactly what gave him away- the way that he gave a slight flinch, the way he refused to tear his gaze from the papers on his desk, or the way that he pressed the tip of his quill angrily into the page until a small blob of ink had pooled under it.

Whatever it was, Aethas saw his opportunity and took it.

"Well?" He repeated, a little more insistent this time. "Why don't you miss it? Snow is lovely. It's beautiful and clean and-"

"I just don't," Rommath interrupted harshly.

"Do you miss anything about Dala-"

All at once, the Grand Magister rose to his feet, letting out a frustrated huff and smoothing out his robes. "Are you planning on doing any actual work today, Sunreaver? Or did you show up only to bother me with your presence?"

Aethas snapped his mouth shut, so suddenly that Rommath could hear his teeth colliding into each other. For the slightest second, he almost felt bad, because he knew just how fragile the younger elf had become, and more occasions than he cared to be a part of, he had watched the way he bowed his head and stammered out an apology as he excused himself in an attempt to hide his tears. With his face crumpled, his gaze dropped instantly to the floor. "I- I didn't mean-" he stammered. "That is, I only thought that we could-"

"Talk?" Rommath interrupted swiftly. "Bond? Get to know each other?"

"It's been six months, Rom-"

"Yes," he agreed with a short nod. "Six months, and you still don't seem to understand that I have little to no interest in conversing with you. Really, I knew Kael'thas' apprentice was hardly worth his time, but I never realized how dull you can be sometimes, Sunreaver."

If Aethas hadn't been on the verge of crying before, he seemed to be now. In spite of himself, Rommath adverted his gaze, unwilling to acknowledge the damage he had done.

After what felt like an eternity, the young elf finally said, "When are you going to stop hating me?"

Rommath, who had apparently taken up a great interest in a very specific spot on his wall, gave only a small shrug.

Biting down on the insides of his cheeks, until the hot, copper taste of blood filled his mouth, Aethas gripped tightly as his robes, bunching them up between his fingers. "You saved my life..."

"Only because I had to, Sunreaver. Don't mistake it for kindness." With that, he crossed the room to the door, gripping the handle tightly as he yanked it open. "Now, go and find some way to keep yourself occupied that _isn't_ testing what little patience I have left."

Aethas didn't have to be told twice, and he certainly didn't wish to spend another minute in that room being patronized and belittled. He kept his head down on his way out, kept his mouth shut, didn't even bother with any parting words. They would have been wasted anyway. Rommath had made it abundantly clear that he wanted the redhead out of his sight, and Aethas wasn't in the mood to argue with him. He was tired of his efforts being wasted on someone so utterly impossible, someone who wasn't even willing to try and meet him halfway. The Grand Magister may have had his issues with Dalaran and the Kirin Tor and even Aethas himself, but the fact of the matter was that they were stuck together now, and at some point he was just going to have to accept that.

Or maybe Aethas was the one that had to accept that they would never see eye to eye. He didn't know, and right now he was far too emotional to even think about it.

He made it maybe two feet down the hall before he heard Rommath's sharp voice calling out to him. "You'd best not be late for the Winter Veil feast tonight, either," he warned, like Aethas was some child that needed to be looked after, like he hadn't ever been able to fend for himself before falling under Rommath's command.

He ignored him, kept walking, never looked back, until he heard the loud sound of the door slamming.

...

If there was one thing the Sin'dorei knew how to do, it was throw a party. Each year, the Feast of Winter Veil was kicked off with a massive banquet held in the ballroom of the Spire. The whole room was adorned in golden and crimson ribbons, a festively decorated tree set up in one corner of the room. The rest was filled with long tables, set with enough plates to serve half of Silvermoon City and a large area set aside as a dance floor, and at the head of it all stood Lor'themar Theron.

Of all the things he hated about being the Regent Lord, and it was quite the impressive list, entertaining the nobles and politicians and upper class of the city had to be near the very top. He would have given anything to be home, relaxing with his makeshift family after a long day of dull and meaningless meetings and paperwork, most of which had pertained to perfecting this very event. Instead, he was dressed up in ceremonial armor, watching as people filtered into the room, mingling with one another, and counting down the seconds till this new form of torture was over. Fight trolls? Fine. Battle the Scourge? Sure. Socialize with the most important people in the city? No thanks.

A beautiful redheaded elf fell into place at his side, smiling faintly as she rested a hand on his arm. Her long hair was all done up in curls, pinned back to show off her face, and her golden dress hugged each of her curves, flowing from her waist and pooling around her feet. It was all done up with shimmering tulle and embroidery, beads sewn into the material in intricate designs, right up to the collar that clasped tightly around her slender neck. Lor'themar returned her smile as he raised a hand to rest upon the small of her back, the bare skin left exposed by the parting fabric. "You look stunning, Liadrin."

A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. "You don't look too bad yourself, Lor," she retorted. "You certainly do clean up well. I remember when you were a little boy showing up to the temple covered in dirt and scratches."

"Yes," he drawled, his gaze straying from her features just long enough to do a sweep of the expansive room. "And now I'm stuck being in charge of all these fu-"

"Momma!"

The Regent snapped his mouth shut just in time for a young girl to come barreling towards them at full speed, the skirts of her burgundy dress bunched up in her hands and her platinum strands of hair tumbling free from the braids that had been pinned up around the crown of her head. She crashed into Liadrin, hugging her tightly as she tilted her head back to peer up at the woman. "Momma," she repeated, this time far more breathlessly. "Uncle Halduron said that he was going to give me a pet lynx as a present!"

Liadrin's emerald eyes widened, her gaze flickering only briefly to Lor'themar before it returned to that of her adopted daughter. "Is that so?" She replied, the surprise in her voice entirely genuine. "Well, that's a mighty special present, so if that's the case you had best be on your best behavior all night. Understand?"

With her eyes lighting up, Salandria nodded eagerly, taking a step back and working quickly to smooth out the wrinkles from her own skirts. "I'll be good," she assured the pair, looking quickly between them. "I'll be more good than I've ever been in my whole life!" She didn't give them a chance to reply, just turned and started off into the thickening crowds, quickly at first, though she slowed her pace when she realized they were still watching.

At her departure, Lor'themar let out a long sigh. He reached up to push a hand through his hair, but Liadrin caught his fingers in her own before he could mess up the braid she's spent half the morning on. "We aren't really letting her get a lynx," he stated firmly.

Liadrin replied with a short chuckle and a slight shrug. "He's your friend."

"Yes," Lor'themar murmured. "Remind me why I keep him around again?"

The red haired elf tilted her head to the side. "Your guess is as good as mine, love."

Their alone time was quickly stolen as people began to take their seats, and the pair had no choice but to join them. Lor'themar took his place at the head of the foremost table, Liadrin to his left and Halduron to his right. Beside the Ranger-General sat a fair woman with pale blonde hair, dressed in a simple navy gown. With a sweet smile upon her lips, she bowed her head in respect at the Regent, and Lor'themar was all too happy to return the gesture. After the last banquet, he had been very explicit in explaining to Halduron that his dates were most certainly _not_ allowed to be women he met on Murder Row, so it was nice to see someone with at least some semblance of stature and dignity at his side. Even if she hadn't quite managed to take her hand off his thigh since the moment she sat down.

"Daenika Dawnrunner," he greeted. "It's nice to see you again. And...in a dress. I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but armor."

In spite of herself, the Farstrider blushed, a sly grin snaking onto her lips "Armor, or nothing at all, Regent-"

"Lor'themar," he interrupted quickly. There was an edge of warning in his voice, and his gaze straying to Liadrin, who suddenly seemed very interested in the empty plate before her. "You knew me long before I was Regent Lord."

The blonde nodded slowly. "Very well, Lor'themar," she murmured, her words sickly sweet. She looked quite deliberately towards Liadrin then, but the Blood Knight Matriarch knew far better than to meet her stare. It was far too early in the evening to start any fights, especially with someone that was so obviously trying to cause a scene. Liadrin had never been one for drama or politics, but she had found that she could get fairly far by refusing to engage at all.

Instead, she turned her stare on Halduron, who was busting himself by downing a glass of wine at an impressive rate. "So," she said, clearly her thought softly and straightening up. "I understand you've promised to give Salandria a lynx cub."

At the woman's side, the child's eyes went wide. Halduron's own expression was laced with confusion. "Did I? Oh. Uh...yeah, of course, I-"

His stammered words were silenced quickly by the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor as the seat beside Salandria was quickly pulled away from the table. Snapping their mouths shut, the others looked away as a dark-haired elf lowered himself into the seat, pulling it in towards the table slowly and deliberately, yanking the collar of his crimson robes up as far as possible. "Evening," the Grand Magister muttered, without bothering to look up at any of them. "Shall we get this over with as soon as possible?"

Neither Halduron or Lor'themar bothered to reply; since Rommath's return to Quel'thalas eight years prior, they had learned that it was seldom in their best interest to try appeasing him. Nothing would ever be enough to satisfy him, and if anything managed to come close, Rommath would simply raise his standards for the sake of being difficult. Even Liadrin, who had known him for many years, who knew far more of his secrets than most, bowed her head in silence. It was clear that he was in a mood, and she wasn't interested in setting him off on one of his rampages with half the nation in the room.

Salandria, however, seemed completely oblivious to the scowl that had permanently etched itself upon his features. She repositioned herself in her seat, pushing her chair back so suddenly that it nearly tipped over, and smiled brightly at him. "Uncle Rommy, guess what?"

It took all of his efforts and self-constraint to stifle the sigh of irritation that was readily pushing its way from his lungs, because for as callous and vacant as he may have been, he had no intention of making a child cry. Still, he couldn't quite make his tone sound anything less than icy, the words coming out through gritted teeth. "What is it, Salandria?"

If she noticed at all, she gave no indication. "Uncle Halduron is going to get me a baby lynx," she went on. "It's going to be so cute! You can come over and play with it any time you want to, okay?"

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he glanced past the child to where her adopted parents were sitting. "We're allowing wild animals to run around the Spire now, are we?" He retorted with a huff. "Well, I suppose they've been running this place since the pri-"

"Rommath," Liadrin interjected, giving him a warning glare. "For one night, can you please keep it to yourself? We are _trying_ to be festive."

Taking a painfully long time to unfold his napkin and smooth it over his lap, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, swallowing hard and looking directly at Lor'themar. "No, _you_ all are trying to be festive. _I_ would have a perfectly comfortable evening alone, but was informed that this was mandatory. So I am here, I have arrived, but I will _not_ pretend to want anything to do with this."

For a few long moments, the others just stared at him blankly, fairly certain that was the most they had heard him speak at one time since they day they'd met him. Liadrin blinked slowly, her hand finding Lor'themar's and gripping it tightly in attempt to offer some silent comfort. Salandria slinked back down into her chair, fidgeting with the ivory sash around her dress, and Halduron occupied himself by pouring what must have been at least his third glass of wine just since sitting down.

Ultimately, it was Daenika Dawnrunner that broke the seemingly endless silence. "You know," she said lowly, leaning forward across the table. "You seem like you really need to get laid. I have a few friends that wouldn't even ask questions-"

"Right," Lor'themar cut her off sharply, his hand clenching around Liadrin's fingers. "I, uh, think that I'll make the toast now." He gave both of his advisors pointed looks as he rose to his feet, shaking his head a little. "Light, it's going to be a long night…"

...

The rest of the banquet seemed to drag on and pass quickly all at once. Soon, a vast majority of the guests were too intoxicated to really be aware of their surroundings, and a fair amount of them had already slinked back to their homes with whoever would be keeping them company for the evening.

The late hours of the evening found Lor'themar seated in the same place at the head of the table, half trying to keep tabs on what was going on around him and half trying to stay conscious. Once upon a time staying up to all hours of the night hardly fazed him, and he could have probably held his liquor better than most anyone in Quel'thalas. After the fall, when he had first been placed in charge of the remainders of a ruined kingdom, his drinking problem had nearly been the death of him, and had come far closer than he cared to admit to costing him his relationship with Liadrin. But those days were long behind him now, and between adopting Salandria and having to wake at the first light of dawn for all manner of pointless meetings, remaining awake was far more challenging than it had been in those days.

It was there at the table that Halduron found him. Lor'themar had his chin resting atop his hand and didn't even flinch when the Ranger-General crashed into him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and all but knocking him off his chair in the process. His glazed eyes and sloppy grin told the Regent all that he needed to know; the younger blonde was completely, utterly wasted.

"Lor," he slurred, as if he'd read Lor'themar's mind and was eager to confirm the thoughts. "I love you, you know. I love you sooo-"

"You're drunk."

Halduron gave a small shrug. "Probably," he replied. Glancing around quickly, he pushed his glass towards Lor'themar so suddenly a few drops sloshed over the edge. "Before Liadrin sees-"

"Halduron Brightwing," a sudden, sharp voice interrupted, causing the blonde to cringe, and a moment later the familiar redhead had fallen into place beside Lor'themar. "I have told you a thousand and one times to stop trying to smuggle liquor to a recovering alcoholic. He isn't interested-"

"Actually-" Lor'themar started, but was silenced instantly by Liadrin's glare and her nails digging into the flesh of his wrist.

"He isn't interested," she repeated, more firmly than before. "Take your horrible influences elsewhere." It was all the warning that the blonde needed. Murmuring his farewells, he went to retrieve Daenika Dawnrunner, and departed for the evening. On his way towards the door, he paused to flash a wide smile at Rommath, who had made a point to move as far away from everyone else in the room as he possibly could at the first opportunity, but the Grand Magister effectively ignored him.

However, he was having a fairly difficult time ignoring Salandria, who had apparently decided that the most enjoyable way she could spend the banquet was by staying at his side and asking him every single question that popped into her mind. With his signature scowl fixated on the table and his fist gripping tightly to his glass of water, he did his best to tune her out, but she was so damn persistent, and his ability to handle this level of exposure to people was quickly diminishing.

"Uncle Rommy, do _you_ like lynxes?" She asked suddenly, since five seconds of silence was clearly too long for the young girl to stand.

"No, Salandria. I do not like lynxes."

His sharp reply brought a pout to her lips. "Why not? What is it that you dislike about them? They're the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. Even cuter than me, probably. Have you ever even seen a lynx baby?"

"No, Salan-"

"They how do you know that you don't like them, huh?" She retorted, scrunching her nose up. She paused for a moment, a sudden look of horror taking over her features. "Are you one of those terrible people that wear lynx fur?!"

Rommath heaved a great sigh, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a long sip of the cool, clear liquid. "No, Salandria. Why don't you go and find your parents and leave me-"

"I don't know how they live with themselves," she went on, as if he'd never even spoken at all. If this evening had accomplished anything, it had served to remind him that he would never desire children, or relationships, or anything that forced him to hold a conversation that pertained to anything except runestones and portals again. People were confusing and complicated, different not only from one another, but contradicting even themselves from one second to the next. At least he could understand magic. "How do they sleep at night, living with the knowledge that they've left the poor little baby lynxes all alone and orphaned. I remember when I was an orphan, you know, and I wouldn't want that to happen to anyone." Suddenly, the blonde child was flinging herself towards him, hugging tightly to his arm, pressing her cheek into his robes. "I'm so happy that I got to come here and have a real family. Aren't you so happy to have a family, Uncle Rommy?"

Gritting his teeth together, Rommath disentangled himself from Salandria's hold, lifting his gaze at last and scanning the room for either Lor'themar and Liadrin. "Thrilled," he drawled in the most sarcastic tone he could possibly muster. "Now, let's go and find this family of yours so that I can be allowed five minutes of solitude, hmm? I don't recall volunteering to be your babysitter all evening." Rising from the chair, he started off towards the head table, hoping he would find the pair still where he had left them so that he could rid himself of the girl and then make a quick exit from this nightmare of an evening.

The dark haired elf made it perhaps two steps before Salandria was tugging at his sleeve. "Uncle Rommy," she said, quickening her pace to keep up with him. "Do you have a _real_ family?"

For one single second, his breath lodged in his throat, but he managed to swallow hard and regain his composure. "No. They're dead."

Salandria's elongated brows shot up at that. "Oh," she murmured, bowing her head for a moment, a pale blush tinting her cheeks. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean...Momma says that I have to learn what's appropriate to mention, and, I-I didn't…" Stumbling over her words, she opted instead to snap her mouth shut.

Rommath almost thought he felt something close to a pang of sympathy in his chest, fleeting as it was. "It's...alright," he told her, his tone softening noticeably. Salandria must have taken comfort in this, because she offered him a bright smile, the light returning in full to her viridian eyes. Neither of them spoke again until they had reached the head of the ballroom, where, just as he had suspected, Lor'themar and Liadrin sat. At the sight of them, Salandria bounded over to the pair, greeting them happily as she clamored up into the former Farstrider's lap.

"There you are," the redhead said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind the child's ear. "I was wondering where you'd run off to. Were you good for the Grand Magister?" Salandria was quick to nod, but Liadrin was surprised to find that when she glanced over to Rommath, he gave a quick dip of his own chin in confirmation. She had expected him to be far more irritated with the whole situation, given his general dislike for children and talking and really anything that involved leaving his chambers.

After a moment, Rommath took a definitive step backwards. "If it's all the same, I think I'll take my leave now," he told them. The bitterness and anger had been drained from him now, leaving only exhaustion and apathy in its place. Still, when he met the Regent's one-eyed gaze, he couldn't help but throw in one last remark, adding quickly, "I do hope that my appearance lived up to your expectations of me."

Lor'themar gave a small smirk, just the faintest of tugging at the corner of his lips, but the amusement there quickly turned itself into something more genuine, sincere. "I appreciate it, Rommath. I'm sure it hasn't been easy for you since Kae-"

"No," Rommath snapped instantly, and just like that all of his bitterness and anger returned to him. "It has not. Goodnight, Regent, Liadrin."

"Goodnight, Rom," the woman replied, keeping her own tone even. "Be sure to give our regards to Aethas when you see him. Tell him we're very sorry that he wasn't able to attend, and that we hope all is well for him."

The realization hit him fully, all at once. Narrowing his eyes, he turned away, saying nothing more as he made his way through the last lingering crowds and out the wide doors into the corridors beyond. With his hands clenched into fists at his side and his blood seeming to boil in his veins, he made his way through the familiar halls of the Spire. Really, he thought, there was no reason for this to set him off so. He swore he felt the flickering heat of flames at his fingertips, just barely contained under his skin. He kept asking himself why he was so upset, why he cared in the slightest what _Aethas Sunreaver_ did, but no matter how many times he posed the question, no logical answer came to mind.

The most reasonable notion that he could conjure up was that it simply wasn't fair. Rommath had, of course, come to terms with the fact that life was seldom fair long ago, sometime between being imprisoned in his own city and watching the only person he had ever loved succumb to the corruption of the Burning Legion. He had accepted that things very rarely went according to plan. But it was _especially_ unfair that after all of the pain, all of the heartbreak and struggle he had endured, Rommath had still been expected to drag himself up off the ground, to recollect whatever little pieces of himself he could find and to get on with his life, while Aethas Sunreaver had done nothing for months but sit around and sulk in his own self-pity. It was _especially_ unfair, that Rommath had been forced against his will to sacrifice an entire evening to a pointless party, while Aethas Sunreaver got to hide himself away and devote even _more_ of his time to wallowing in his misery, all of which likely could have been avoided in the first place if he had possessed even an ounce of leadership skills.

Ultimately, it was this thought that drove him onward, through each winding hallway of the Spire, until he had emerged into the still night air. Silvermoon's streets were surprisingly silent that evening, since anyone that was anyone either still remained in the ballroom or had already retired behind closed doors. The air was the same comfortable, breezy temperature as always, lacking the biting chill that would have made it really feel like Winter Veil had arrived. Yes, Rommath missed the snow. Rommath missed loads of things- the snow, the Dalaran library, the way Belo'vir had mocked him, always playfully, when he would get lost in his own thoughts, and his prince. Above all, his prince.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought off the aching feeling that had started winding itself in and out of his ribs. Kael was gone. Kael, the real Kael, _his_ Kael, had been gone long before the Prince of Quel'thalas was slain. And dwelling on that now wasn't going to do him any good. If missing Kael'thas Sunstrider had been enough to bring him back, Rommath's loneliness would have been gone years ago.

Letting out a shaky breath, he opened his eyes and quickened his steps. Someone needed to tell Aethas that it was time to start dealing with the responsibility and consequences of what had happened in Dalaran, and apparently Rommath was the only person that was willing to do it.

…

The Sunreaver Estate was this massive, sprawling building that took up nearly an entire block, pale brick broken up by large windows and all encased in a great iron fence. Somehow, it had managed to survive both attacks upon the city, still standing tall as a symbol of all the decadence and debauchery for which the Sin'dorei were known. Aethas' father had been a royal treasurer working under Anasterian, and his mother had been a born and bred courtier. Rommath had passed that house numerous times and questioned how one family could possibly utilize so much space, but it wasn't until Aethas had returned to the city that he had learned to whom the property belonged.

Now, he found himself standing before the extravagant front door. His hand was raised to knock, but he was hesitating to actually make any sound, and there was this sinking feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite place. The fires that had coursed through his veins were all but doused now, replaced with uncertainty. He might have put on a good show, might have acted cold and indifferent and heartless to everyone around him, but inside he was still the same helplessly shy, pathetically afraid child that had clung to the prince for all his bravery and confidence and breathtaking strength. But then, Kael must have been putting on a good show too, because Rommath had seen what had become of him, and none of those traits for which he had loved him had remained in the end, leaving his closest friend to wonder if they had ever really been real at all.

The curtains of the house were all drawn, and from what he could see, there was no light filtering out through the cracks, and something about this whole scene had placed him on edge, like whatever awaited him on the other side of the door was something with which he did not wish to get involved. Still, he had come too far to turn back now. Really, he was doing Sunreaver a favor. Aethas was miserable, pitiful, just as Rommath had been all those years ago. Someone needed to snap him out of it before he became trapped there, before he lost the ability to escape that pain and sorrow, before he too became trapped in a shell of bitter hatred, because honestly Rommath wasn't sure he would wish this upon anyone.

He knocked.

But a few seconds passed, and there was no reply. Not even the sound of movement from behind the door. A frown pulled his brows together as he stared blankly at the door. He knocked again, waited, and still nothing. After another minute or so, he reached out to grip the handle, testing his luck. It must have been on his side that night, because the door was unlocked, and a moment later Rommath was looking into the darkened foyer of the Sunreaver Estate. He lingered, contemplated, and ultimately decided that there wasn't really much Aethas could do to him, so he crossed the threshold into the house.

The silence was overwhelming, the darkness stifling. Absently adjusting his robes, Rommath fumbled his way down the hall, reaching out and using the walls to guide him alone, until at last he emerged into a parlor room. This, at least, was dimly lit by the dull roar of the fireplace, and it was here that the dark haired elf found Aethas. The young mage was standing perfectly still in the center of the room, an arm wrapped protectively around himself, the other hand clutching a half empty glass of dark liquor. If he had heard Rommath's approach, he gave no indication, just kept staring into the fire, watching as the flames twisted and danced and flickered before his eyes. Although his features were half concealed by shadows, there was a familiar look in his eyes that Rommath couldn't quite place, some level of self-loathing and madness he had seen somewhere before- in Kael. It was the look he'd had in Outland, the one that said _all of this, everything, it's all my fault._

Swallowing hard, he took a slow step forward. He had forgotten all of the reasons that he had come here, had forgotten everything he'd planned to say, and now instead of being the stern and overbearing Grand Magister, he was this quiet figure hovering in the corner, afraid to speak at all for fear of saying something wrong. Because as much as Aethas drove him crazy, as much as he got under his skin, as much as he wanted to strangle some sense into him most of the time, he didn't want to see him look so utterly _broken_ either. And he certainly didn't want to add to that.

In the end, it was Aethas that spoke. He never moved, never even angled his head to acknowledge the older man, and his voice was little more than a soft whisper. "Did you let yourself into my house just so that you could stand there and stare at me?"

Rommath gave a slight start, inching further into the light as if there was any further need to announce his presence. "No," he said, wishing the word sounded more spiteful and less sympathetic. "I came to patronize you for skipping the banquet. I told you to be there, and you didn't listen."

If he thought the words might get a rise out of the redhead, he was disappointed. The closest Aethas came to replying was lifting his glass to his pursed lips and sucking down a greedy sip of whatever horrible alcohol he had settled on using to impair himself that evening. When the cup was empty, he closed the distance between himself and the fireplace, setting it atop the mantle. Rommath followed with his eyes, his gaze straying to the painting that hung above it, an ornate golden frame and a portrait of two beautiful crimson haired children seated side by side.

Aethas must have noticed him looking, because all he said was, "My sister, Aria," and the older mage could only assume he was referring to the girl in the picture. Aethas glanced pointedly at Rommath, but held the stare for only a second before turning away once more, his emerald eyes transfixed again on the flames. "She died when the Scourge attacked. Though I'm sure there isn't a person in Quel'thalas that can't say the same of someone they loved. I couldn't get to her in time to save her. I-I couldn't get to anyone in time to save them."

In retrospect, Rommath was fairly convinced that he must have blacked out or something for a few brief seconds, or if that wasn't the case then Aethas' emotions were far more volatile than he had realized, because one second he was swaying just barely back and forth with a scowl on his face, and the next he was collapsing forward into Rommath's chest, burying his face in his shoulder as a great, heaving sob tore free from his lungs. If the weight alone hadn't been enough to make the Grand Magister stagger, the shock nearly was, and it was that which sent them both falling backwards into the couch. Aethas paid no mind whatsoever, just curled up against him and dug his fingers into his robes as he cried.

While most every fiber of his being told him to get as far away as he could, Rommath stayed, partially due to the fact that he was fairly trapped there, and partially because as he listened to the young elf's hysterical cries filling the room, it was Kael that he heard. Not Aethas, but Kael, breaking down and crying as he had done so many times before, only for Rommath to see, only for Rommath to hear. And while he knew that of course this was not Kael, he couldn't help but think that whatever Aethas was feeling, it had to be awfully similar, or at the very least it sounded like it did, and he wasn't just going to abandon him. He put on a good show, but that was all it was- an act. He pretended to be heartless because what heart he had left he needed to protect. He pretended to be cold because he knew just how chilling it could be to lose the warmth and flame of love.

Rommath stayed silent for a long while, allowing Aethas to let it all out. He waited until the sobbing became muffled, silent tears with only a few sniffles here and there. Only then did he dare to let out a short sigh, gripping Aethas by the shoulders and easing him into an upright position so that he might meet his gaze, doing his best to ignore the fact that he was still very much in his _lap_. "Sunreaver," he said, very deliberately dragging his name out. "Listen to me. You cannot continue clinging onto what happened in Dalaran. It will tear you apart more than it already has."

In the faint glow of the fire light, the tears on his cheeks glistened. His eyes were wide, his lip quivering, his hands still resting upon Rommath's chest. "It- It's all my fault," he whispered bleakly. "Don't you understand? They..they dragged them from their beds. Innocent people, innocent people that had never done a thing in their lives except trust me to protect them." With each word that tumbled from his lips, he grew more frantic, more rushed, blending together until it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began.

Rommath arched a single brow at him. "And this feeling has inhibited your ability to attend a simple dinner party? If that's the case, someone really ought to inform Lor'themar that I'll not be attending any further gatherings."

A deep scowl etched itself into Aethas' face. "Why should I be allowed to celebrate anything when they are gone?" He snapped. "They trusted me, and now they're dead. Don't you understand that?"

Rommath pursed his lips, his eyes straying to the place where Aethas' trembling fingers held onto him. When he lifted his gaze once again, he lifted a hand as well, using the hem of his sleeve to wipe away the wetness from his face. "I do understand," he said quietly. There was a tentative gentleness in his voice now, one that Aethas wasn't sure he had ever heard before, one he hadn't even known the elusive Grand Magister to be capable of. "I do. But you must understand that it is not your fault. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of those that helped Garrosh, nor for those of the Kirin Tor."

Aethas pulled his long brows together. "But you said-"

"I know what I said," Rommath interrupted with a huff. "But I'm afraid what I say is seldom what I mean. I say what is expected of me because I hate confrontation. But…" He trailed off for a long moment, his gaze growing farther away. "But if you are to blame for all those that died in the Purge because of your failure to recognize the fault of a single person, then I am to blame for all that died when Kael'thas attacked Silvermoon, because of my failure to recognize what was happening to him."

To that, Aethas said nothing. There was nothing to be said. But he gave a short nod, and with only the slightest of hesitation, he leaned forward once more to rest his head against Rommath's chest. The dark haired elf tensed up under the weight, but he soon felt himself relaxing, his fingers moving to play idly with a few strands of long red hair. He could feel Aethas' heartbeat calming back to a regular pace, could feel his breathing stabilize and his grip upon him loosening. He could feel his own breaths slowing, falling in time with those of the other elf, could feel his silken strands of hair slipping in between his fingers. It had been a long, long time since Rommath had felt this sort of closeness to anyone, and he found that in spite of all his harsh ways and his bitterness, he almost liked it.

Or at least, he must have liked it, because it was in this exact position Rommath found himself the following morning, when the sunlight broke through the curtains and spilled across the floor, effectively managing to wake him. His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of a familiar

head of crimson curls still sleeping soundly against him.

The night came filtering back to him in pieces, his memories falling into place one after the other. Stifling a groan so as not to startle the slumbering form atop him, he opted into to grip Aethas by the shoulder, giving him a few gentle shakes. "Sunreaver," he hissed. "Sunreaver, get off of me right now."

A half conscious, muffled sound made it past the younger mage's lips as he lifted his head, pushing a hand through his hair. A look of confusion etched itself into his features as his gaze locked with the one before him. "Rom- what? What are you...Light, did we…?"

"No," Rommath replied quickly. "What kind of person do you think I am, Sunreaver? I'm not just going to show up and consent to spending the night with you."

In spite of himself, Aethas cracked a sly grin. "Well, technically…"

At that, Rommath gave him a sudden shove, sending the mage falling from him lap and sprawling upon the floor as he stood. "Careful, Aethas, or I'll make sure you do nothing but paperwork for the rest of the year."

Sneering up at him, Aethas pushed himself up to his feet, fixing his robes and shouldering past the Grand Magister to the window. He gripped the curtains, pulling them back to let the light in, and all at once, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Rommath-"

But the older of the pair was already at his side, his own expression caught somewhere between shock and horror. "That's not possible," he stammered. "The magic shields, they must be down. This is a disaster-"

Aethas whirled around and took off with childlike excitement towards the front door, throwing it open with no regard for his own appearance and stumbling out onto the front step. Rommath was quick to follow, disbelief clear on his face. Sure enough, the sleepy streets of Silvermoon, the buildings and walkways were all dusted with a pale blanket of white. "Look, Rommath!" Aethas said happily. "Snow!"

"But Aethas, the shields!"

Rolling his eyes, the redhead took Rommath by the wrist, tugging him down the sidewalk, the hems of their robes catching the glistening white dust. "Isn't this exciting?"

Rommath swallowed hard, blinking for a moment too long and shaking away the thoughts of all his winters spent with the prince. Kael was gone. Kael was dead.

But Aethas...Aethas was here now, and something about him make Rommath think that maybe he didn't have to be so alone all the time. It was too soon to tell, of course; Rommath wasn't the type to give himself away so easily. But for one perfect instant, he didn't want to dwell in the past, and he didn't want to worry about the future. So he took Aethas' hand, and he gave a slight nod, looking up at the snowflakes as they fell down around them. "Yes," he replied. "It's the most wonderful thing that ever existed."

 _end._


End file.
